


Like It Rough

by Sanjuno



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Argue with me and I will cut you, But that's okay they think Cid is sexy, Cid Highwind is a power bottom, Cid Highwind is my jam, Cid also has a bit of a scar kink, Cid is sexy as hell, Cid is shameless, Cid likes it rough, Cid's language, Holy shit Cid is bendy, I have no idea why Vincent is surprised by this, Lucky Vincent, M/M, Minor mention of the odder side effects of proto-Materia possession, Pheromones, Pheromones EVERYWHERE, Top Vincent Valentine, Vincent has demons in his head, Yay Cid!, this is pretty much just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanjuno/pseuds/Sanjuno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cid walks in on Vincent naked. Vincent stalks Cid around the airship for a little while and notices that Cid smells good. Then they have sex. That’s all really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like It Rough

**_Like It Rough_**  
  
=/=  
  
Vincent Valentine is attracted to intelligence, kindness, and competence, with perhaps a tiny bit of vulnerability. Although after what Lucrecia Crescent did to him, he is certain not to let himself care for anyone who would lie to him, or is unable to take care of themselves. Someone with a strong sense of morality, the ability to know right from wrong and can stand on their principles.  
  
Cid Highwind is a bit more difficult. What attracts him? Some would point to Shera and insist that the Captain like them sweet and submissive. If that were truly the case though, would he not have found someone long before the Meteor crisis and reconciling with Shera? And do not start on about one-true-love. Shera and the Captain stayed in close proximity for years and he never once touched her or took advantage. Yeah, Cid Highwind is a man of honour, but he is still a man. And if he were truly attracted to the submissive type (or even just Shera’s type) he would have found a way to justify hooking up with Shera long before those Avalanche people got to him.  
  
Now me? I think that the Captain is after someone who can take everything Cid Highwind can dish out and give it right back as good or better. Miss Shera is a nice girl, and it is obvious that she and the Captain care for each other, but they will not last. Miss Shera just does not have it in her to go against the Captain unless it is a matter of life and death. The Captain needs someone who will challenge him he gets bored otherwise.  
  
You do not believe me? Fine, I can prove that I am right; just you wait and watch what happens.  
  
=/=  
  
Human beings are, with a few exceptions of greater and lesser degree, communal creatures. And making conversation, spreading news, gossip – whatever you call it – people love to talk about other people. Enclosed environments, where you see the same people day after day, like schools, offices, or military barracks, where everyone knows everyone else, are prime gossip breeding grounds. And when it comes to closed off environments, you cannot get much more isolated than an airship several hundreds of feet in the air… and the crews of the _Sierra_ and the _Highwind II_ loved to gossip.  
  
(It should be noted here that when the crews were questioned about their Captain’s stance on their gossiping the crew just laughed. Something about kettles was mentioned.)  
  
The most recent subject to make the rounds of the _Highwind II_ ’s conversational circles was the subject of the Captain and Shera’s divorce.  
  
“They didn’t even make it a year, such a shame.”  
  
“Apparently it was Miss Shera who was the one to call it quits. Imagine that! Said that she wasn’t happy, and that the Captain wasn’t either.”  
  
“Rumour has it that she’s seeing some big quiet fellow that the Captain introduced her to now. Quite a change from the Captain.”  
  
At this point, someone would inevitably laugh. The Highwind’s crew had a well worn inside joke. Everyone on the crew tended to be of average height or less, with compact builds. Spend most of your time crawling through engines and it was obvious why the ones to survive Cid’s competence tests were all so short and wiry. Duct crawling and wrestling with large metal engine pieces produced a distinctive physique.  
  
“Back to the main point, hasn’t Miss Shera been seen with some red-haired fellow recently?”  
  
“Oh never mind that! What about the Captain giving command of the _Sierra_ over to Miss Shera once the _Highwind_ rebuild was finished. Never would have thought he’d give up one of his planes.”  
  
“Well, Shera still works for the Captain, now doesn’t she? Being on two different airships just gives them a bit of space.”  
  
(It should be noted here that people who live on airships have an odd concept of distance.)  
  
“It’s good that Mr. Valentine stuck around to give the Captain some company, isn’t it? Never took him for the sort.”  
  
“He’s awfully quiet, that’s all. He’s a good friend to the Captain, being here for moral support and all that.”  
  
“Yeah, who would have thought that the creepy guy was so thoughtful?”  
  
“Just goes to show that you can never tell with the quiet ones. Look, there they go. They make quite a pair don’t they?”  
  
“Yeah, a pair of opposites.”  
  
“Quiet you, and help me with this valve, I think it’s jammed.”  
  
Walking past the small work crew struggling with the sticky valve, Cid cut a glance at Vincent, idly wondering what the man walking beside him thought about the ‘ship’s gossip. The Captain tended to make the rounds every couple of days, and the crew was so used to it that they never bothered to lower their voices.  
  
Cid was the Captain, and as such should not be doing something like gossiping. But he was still an engineer, and a nosy bastard besides, and he liked to stay in the loop. The crew could not get as familiar with the Captain as they could with each other, so a compromise was silently worked out. The crew could gossip without censure, as long as they did not get vicious, and the Captain would listen in to keep in the know. It was an agreement that worked out well for everybody.  
  
But speaking of the ships gossip, Cid had to admit that they had a point, it was a bit strange for Vincent to stick around for as long as he had. The ex-Turk had the damnable habit of disappearing after the excitement was over, not getting in touch for weeks or months at a time. Then he would suddenly show up out of nowhere for a day or two, just to prove he was alive, and then off he would go again. Though to be fair he always managed to show up in exactly the right place at exactly the right time whenever he was needed.  
  
And so here they were.  
  
Cid had to admit that it was nice to have a friend around. He would not give up being the Captain for almost anything, but it could get dammed lonely at the top, especially for a man with Cid’s notorious reputation for bad temper.  
  
Cid did not really need the moral support, but it was nice to have someone he could talk to as an equal. He was actually glad that Shera had called it quits. If she had not, then he would have soon had too. It was a good thing that the woman had finally stood up for herself, and admitted that what she had thought she wanted was not what was going to make her happy.  
  
The _Sierra_ had always been more Shera’s ship than his, and with Shera in charge of the other airship Cid was able to foist the job’s he did not want to deal with onto Shera. Such as ferrying Rufus and the Turk’s around. Cid could not stand them, but they and Shera got on surprisingly well. ShinRa Electrical Company may have been diminished, but it was far from dead. Rufus was now flying around to all the ShinRa labs they could locate in the files, cleaning them out and focusing them on researching fuel sources.  
  
Once again, Cid eyed his companion as they silently wandered the airship, not for the first time taking in the pale, porcelain skin, the long, raven-black hair, the slender body mostly hidden by his draping cloak, and the glowing eyes that often held a deep grief. It was a pity that Vincent was so goddamn fragile. The ex-Turk had a sense of humour that Cid could appreciate, because while Cid could curse and snark with the best of them, when he decided to be verbal Vincent was a Master at the fine art of sarcasm. If the man had not been so fucking breakable then Cid might have made the offer to take their friendship to the next level, dead girlfriend or no.  
  
Oh, Cid knew, intellectually, that Vincent could probably fold him in half, spear and all, and that it was probably damn near impossible to kill him, but that just could not compete with the impression of fragility that Vincent’s frequent bouts of angst and morbid rants on sin-and-atonement left with the pilot.  
  
So Cid treated his friend (maybe his best friend? Hell, the crew had taken a poll and Vincent was the only one able to stand Cid for extended periods of time without contemplating murder or suicide) with a gruff sort of aggressive gentleness. (Which was pretty much how he treated the rest of Avalanche, his crew, and random kids in the streets, but it is the thought that counts dammit!) And resigned his self to ignoring the way Vincent’s ruthless efficiency, understated strength, and grace in battle made him a bit happy in his pants.  
  
Things probably would have remained the same between them; a good friendship based on shared experiences, indefinitely. Yeah, nothing would have changed between them, if only Cid had not walked in on Vincent and seen him naked.  
  
=/=  
  
There were scars.  
  
And Vincent was naked.  
  
Cid blinked.  
  
There were a lot of scars.  
  
And Vincent was still naked.  
  
And he was looking at Cid with one eyebrow going up in a ‘yes? Was there something you wanted?’ expression that Cid really would have paid more attention to if he had not been distracted by the scars… and the naked… and the scars.  
  
Cid liked scars. He thought of them as tributes to a life well lived with hardships overcome and survived. Cid had several scars himself, mostly burns from his engineering work, some big ones from crashes, or permanent reminders of the Meteor fiasco. But to put it simply, scars turned Cid on. And Vincent had lots.  
  
And shoulders, and hell! Vincent was ripped!  
  
Almost of their own accord, Cid’s eyes dropped down.  
  
Cid made an odd, high pitched noise, and jerked his eyes back up only to have his gaze catch on abschestscarsshouldersscars. Cid flushed red as he mouth soundlessly for as few moments, gesturing helplessly. Finally the blond just turned and ran from the room.  
  
Vincent blinked after the fled Captain, eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. Cid had just done a credible imitation of a schoolgirl walking in on her crush in the shower. The amused expression faded to be replaced by one of speculation.  
  
=/=  
  
Cid shoved his cabin door shut, putting his back against it as he panted. It was not the run that had stolen his breath; it was the image of naked Vincent.  
  
Any previous misconceptions about Vincent being fragile had been completely demolished by the blatant strength Cid had seen in the corded muscles that lay under heavily scarred skin.  
  
‘Well they do say that black has a slimming effect.’ Cid thought inanely, ‘and that cloak of his is huge. Even Barret would be swimming in it.’ Cid laughed a bit hysterically. He had a boner over his best friend – a friend with a proven interest in women – and here he was thinking fashion.  
  
“I am so fucked.” Cid commented to the ceiling. Vincent was smart; he would be able to figure out what Cid’s reaction meant. Cid sighed and scrubbed at his hair, “So, so fucked.”  
  
And not in any fun way either, more is the pity.  
  
“Captain?” Cid jumped as a crewmember knocked on his door, “Captain are you in?”  
  
“Yeah.” Cid pulled the door open, “What d’ya want?”  
  
“A package was picked up for you at the last stop, sir.” Said the crewman, handing a plain box to Cid.  
  
“Thanks Jennings.” Cid said as he took it.  
  
“Sir.” Jennings sketched a small salute and continued down the hall. Cid did not watch him go, and instead closed the door to his cabin and locked it, putting his back to the door once again.  
  
“This is just what I need.” Cid said, recognizing the return address on the simple brown package. “I’m gonna start believin’ in higher powers at this rate.”  
  
Cid tore open the box and fished out the item he wanted before tossing the rest onto a nearby chair. He pushed away from the door, kicking off his boots and losing his socks in the process. He crossed the room, popping the button of his jeans and wrenching down the zip as he fell onto his bed. Cid shoved his jeans and boxers down to mid thigh, making a happy sound as his erection was freed. Not bothering to undress any more than he already had, he unscrewed the cap of the item in his hand. The item from the box was a tube of lube, and he spread some on both hands before recapping the tube and tossing it onto his side table. Cid curled his now-slicked fingers around his length and pumped his hand. Eyes closed, Cid could not help bringing up the image of Vincent from that too-short glimpse of bare, scarred skin, familiar ghost-pale features and red-coal eyes. Cid bit his lip and lifted his knees, spreading his legs as much as the shackles or his jeans allowed and got his other hand underneath him. The hand on his erection worked harder as Cid shoved two fingers inside himself, the burn and pressure flaring up his spine as he crooked his fingers and pressed just right. He could not help thinking of how Vincent’s fingers would feel, longer, bigger. Cid came hard, with a whimper of Vincent’s name.  
  
Cid stared up at the ceiling of his room, feeling hollow and frustrated. His seed was cooling on his stomach and he had just tossed one off while thinking about his (straight) best friend sans clothing.  
  
“Fuck.” Cid said succinctly and rolled off the bed to get cleaned up.  
  
=/=  
  
Cid could feel eyes on his back, burning holes into his spine. He shrugged it off and went to help Peirson adjust the manifold alignments.  
  
He figured out who must have been watching him about two hours later while walking down an otherwise empty corridor.  
  
“Cid.” The voice came from behind him.  
  
“Shit!” Cid jumped and spun around, “Vince! Don’t do that! Gonna gimmie a fuckin’ heart attack!”  
  
“My apologies.” Vincent smirked and failed to look at all apologetic.  
  
“Right.” Cid drawled trying to calm his racing heartbeat as he noticed how close Vincent was standing. The fast pulse of alarm skipped a beat, changed to a different tempo altogether and entirely failed to slow down at all, “What can I do fer ya?”  
  
“I wanted to talk to you.” Vincent was frowning, looking a bit distracted, which was a bit odd. Vincent was always focused. Cid decided not to question anything that might get him out of the upcoming conversation faster.  
  
“Oh yeah? About what?” Stay calm, keep your head, and whatever you do, do not think about how much you want to strip him naked and jump his bones.  
  
… Fuck.  
  
“About the…” Vincent paused in mid-sentence, eyes glazing for a second before he shook his head, looking oddly confused, “About the other day when you walked in on me. I wanted to let you know that I understand it was an accident and I do not hold it against you.”  
  
Hell yeah, a naked Vincent up against him, maybe pinning him to the wall right here? Mm, just like that.  
  
“That’s great!” Oh, fuck, please do not let his voice crack. And do not look down. Pray that Vincent does not look down. “Anything else?”  
  
“No, I…” Was Vincent… sniffing at him? He was. Exactly how augmented were Vincent’s senses anyway? Oh shit, he was doomed.  
  
“Glad we’ve got this all cleared up. I gotta go now, Vince.” Cid babbled, desperate to get away before Vincent of the super nose clued into the tent Cid had pitched in his jeans, “Lotsa work to do. I’ll see ya later, alright?”  
  
Vincent inhaled deeply and made a funny growling noise.  
  
Cid bolted.  
  
Vincent stared after him, still taking abnormally deep breaths as if striving to capture all of the pilots lingering scent, still growling softly. What had that been about?  
  
=/=  
  
Vincent was starting to get rather irritated at the current situation. Cid had been avoiding him since the ‘shower incident’. It was annoying. Vincent would have thought his friend horrified by his scars, his disfigurement, except he knew better. Cid was not that superficial. Vincent might have thought Cid embarrassed, but again, that was unlike the pilot. What was more, whenever Vincent had managed to corner Cid over the last few days the pheromones indicative of arousal had saturated the air around him. Had Cid taken a new lover? But no, Vincent had not smelled anyone on Cid but the man himself.  
  
Still, it was aggravating how Vincent had been unable to get his friend alone recently. The main reason the slippery little bastard kept getting away was that whenever Vincent thought he had the man pinned down he got smacked in the face with a wave of sexual frustration. The sudden flood of arousal had shocked him so much the last time that Vincent has taken a step back in order to clear his head. Cid had bolted. The scene had repeated itself numerous times over the last few days.  
  
Each time it happened Vincent grew more and more baffled, not a feeling he liked to admit to. He had tried to sort through the scent-information to the best of his ability, but he had been both helped and hindered in his efforts by the sympathetic responses that were brought up in Vincent himself. What was worse, his demons were far too interested in the way Cid smelled for the gunman’s comfort. It seemed as if the thing to do would be to focus entirely on his goal (talking to Cid) without letting his emotions or his demons reactions to Cid’s scent to distract him. Right. He was once a Turk. He could do this.  
  
Vincent stalked off to hunt down a grumpy blond pilot.  
  
After a few hours of futile searching however, Vincent was starting to wonder if he had gotten the wrong impression of Cid. Perhaps Cid really was disgusted by his appearance. But… that still did not explain how Cid could smell so much of arousal while Vincent was near.  
  
Vincent decided to back off a little and just observe the situation more carefully. Over the next couple of days he stalked his friend, watching him from the shadows as Cid worked on the Highwind.  
  
Cid was edgy at first, peering around as if he expected Vincent to swoop down on him at any moment. And there were times when the gunman was sorely tempted, but then something mechanical and horrifically complicated would require Cid’s full attention and the pilot would relax as he worked.  
  
And Vincent watched him.  
  
The ex-Turk had never devoted any great amount of time to studying his Avalanche companions, but while shadowing Cid Vincent learned some things that he never would have guessed about the pilot. Like, for instance, how Cid was freakishly flexible. Vincent had been watching his friend in fascinated shock as Cid folded and twisted his body into a startling variety of uncomfortable looking shapes as he worked on and in the guts of the airship. What was equally surprising was seeing most of the crew do similar things during his observations of their Captain. Apparently Cid had not been joking when he had told Vincent that one of his hiring criteria was the ability to ‘kiss your own ass goodbye in case of emergency’.  
  
As he watched, Vincent continually sorted through the confusing scents he had picked up from Cid. Isolating and identifying each component of the scent Cid had released when Vincent was near. Lust-desire-want had been strongest, mixed with fear-shame-anger, and underneath it all was a tiny thread of hope-excitement. But even knowing what he had been picking up left Vincent horribly confused, because he did not know the why or who behind the emotions, he did not know which thoughts that had prompted them.  
  
There was no avoiding it, he was going to have to talk to Cid about what, exactly, was going on between them. Vincent had a few guesses, but he could only know for certain if he talked to Cid.  
  
Talk. To. Cid.  
  
Vincent winced.  
  
It was not as if talking to Cid was an unpleasant task, Vincent reflected. It was just that Cid quite obviously hated talking about himself in any real depth. Cid could carry on for hours about his mechanical genius and fighting prowess, but as soon as anything personal came up Cid shut down and ran off to find something he needed to fix now, okay-thanks-bye.  
  
Well then, the only option left was to corner Cid and not let him escape this time. Vincent briefly contemplated the headache he was going to have. Cid tended to get louder the more desperate he got to avoid a conversation.  
  
Vincent sighed and straightened his shoulders before stalking off to find a good ambush point to lie in wait for Cid. Who would have thought one of the loudest, most abrasive people Vincent had ever met would be so dammed hard to find.  
  
Lurking as only a (former) Turk could, Vincent kept an eye out for his quarry as he haunted the hallway close to Cid’s private cabin.  
  
Muttered curses alerted him to his targets approach, the voice preceding the familiar scents of hot metal and engine grease. They nearly covered the almost undetectable smell of smoke. Cid really did not smoke as much as he appeared to. Which should not have been surprising, his occupation made lit cigarettes stupid at best and suicidal at worst (sparks plus the large amounts of extremely flammable, combustible liquids and gasses found inside engines equals explodey doom) and if Cid had really been the chain-smoker he passed himself off as he never would have been able to keep up, let alone survive, the Meteor debacle. Cid did not usually smoke the cigarettes; most of the time he either held it in his lips unlighted, or waved it around in his hand. That was not to say that Cid never smoked, just that it was not often. When Vincent had realized how Cid had fooled everybody about his habit the gunman had been most amused.  
  
The irate blond opening his cabin door pulled from Vincent of his musings on Cid’s idiosyncrasies. Vincent ghosted up behind his friend, only paying half attention to the peevish listing of the crew’s faults and foolishness. The lion’s share of the gunman’s attention was on how absolutely wonderful Cid smelled. That was, like metal and grease and smoke and tea, which Vincent never before would have called wonderful, but somehow when mixed with the smell of Cid, they were.  
  
Vincent leaned in closer, only paying partial attention to Cid’s sudden silence as the pilot stiffened halfway through the doorway, alerted to Vincent’s intrusion on his personal space by the instinct developed through fighting for your life on a daily basis. Vincent drifted closer, all of the voices in his head silent for once as he tried to pin down that elusive something that was drawing him closer to Cid. Slowly, Cid turned around and found himself nose to chest with Vincent’s looming form.  
  
Cid took a step back.  
  
Vincent took a step forward.  
  
The door to the Captain’s cabin swung shut behind them.  
  
=/=  
  
Cid had to remind himself to breath as he watched Vincent close the door to his quarters. The latch clicked into place like a released safety catch. Cid swallowed, Vincent’s searching crimson eyes never looked away from Cid’s face. The blond pilot struggled for his composure, but felt it slip away as Vincent stalked towards him.  
  
Cid’s back hit the far wall next to his bunk with a thump, making Cid jump. He had not even realized that he had been backing up. So much for keeping it cool, Cid thought with a mental groan, there was no way Vincent would believe that nothing was going on now. Fuck, he was acting like some blond bimbo in a bad romance movie. Vincent paused, barely a foot from the pilot as Cid attempted to convince his body to relax and un-plaster itself from the wall.  
  
“Highwind.” Vincent said, breaking the silence. Cid was unable to hold back a twitch at the sound of Vincent’s voice. Vincent watched him carefully as Cid stared back, eyes wild and desperately trying to find some part of Vincent to look at that would not drive him nuts with sexual frustration.  
  
“Cid.” Vincent seemed to have gentled somehow, obviously sensing his friend’s distress, voice soft, “We should talk.”  
  
“Y-yeah?” Cid cleared his throat, cursing silently at the crack in his voice, “What about, Vince?”  
  
“Why have you been avoiding me?” Vincent asked without preamble. Cid gaped, pinned by glowing red eyes and knowing that he could not get away with denial. That did not mean that he would not try to though.  
  
“Haven’t really been avoiding ya, Vince. I’ve just been busy, ‘s’all.” Cid tried a casual shrug, “The Highwind’s a new ‘ship. There’re all kindsa bugs and kinks to work out.”  
  
“Cid.” Vincent said, voice flat, “We both know that’s not the real reason you’ve been running from me for the past week. That’s not even part of the reason. It’s an excuse, and a poor one. Now, I would like the truth, if you don’t mind.” Vincent’s eyes were blazing, full of repressed emotion that never showed in the mildly annoyed tones of his voice. Cid swallowed and licked his lips, missing the way Vincent’s gaze zeroed in on the action.  
  
“You-” Cid coughed, eyes darting around in search of escape, “You don’t really wanna know that, Vince. It’s nothing important, and it’ll damn well pass on its own in a bit. So just fucking drop it, alright?”  
  
“No.” Vincent said calmly, “I’m not going to drop it.”  
  
“Fucking Hel, Vince!” Cid exploded, spiting curses, trying to drive the gunman away so he could make his escape, “Leave it alone! It’s none of your fucking business anyway!”  
  
“It’s because of my scars.” Vincent interjected when Cid paused for breath. Cid’s face drained of colour as he froze, staring at Vincent again. “I understand if you find my disfigurement horrifying. I-”  
  
A wave of sexual pheromones smacked Vincent in the face. The gunman stopped speaking abruptly, mouth still open, and with his next breath Vincent could taste Cid’s arousal on the air.  
  
“Vince…” Cid scrambled for something, anything, to say that could salvage the situation. He took a step away from the wall and put a hand on Vincent’s arm, looking up at his friends face. Vincent’s eyes flared brightly with strong emotion (hurt? Anger? Cid could not tell) and Cid did not want his friend to be hurt by anything Cid said or did. If only Vincent had not brought up the scars! Why was it that his fucking hormones would not listen to reason? “Vince. I… it isn’t the scars, all right? Fuck, it’s… it’s something personal. I’ll get over it. I – Vince?”  
  
Cid squawked as Vincent crowded him up against the wall and shoved his face into the crook of Cid’s neck. Strong hands curled around Cid’s biceps and hauled him up until he was at a more accessible height. Held more than a foot off the floor by a demon-possessed gunman, with said gunman’s nose nuzzling his neck just under his ear, it was probably no surprise that Cid was sporting an expression that conveyed his fear that Vincent had gone off the deep end. Cid was frozen, hanging rigid in Vincent’s grip, eyes closed against a blow that never came.  
  
Okay then, Cid slowly relaxed, as Vincent did nothing more that shift his grip a little and sniff Cid’s shoulder. Vincent was not mad he was just…  
  
Vincent licked Cid’s neck, nosing aside the collar of his pilot’s jacket to get at the sensitive hollow just below Cid’s ear. Cid gasped, tilting his head to give Vincent more room even as his mind whirled in confusion.  
  
Right. So Vincent was not angry. He was just molesting Cid up against the wall of the Captain’s own quarters. All right then, Cid could deal with this.  
  
“Vincent?” Cid started slowly, aware that he was in a very delicate position, “Something – oh fuck! – Something ya wanted to talk to me about, yeah?”  
  
Vincent growled, and that felt real nice vibrating against the underside of Cid’s jaw. Cid swallowed, “So… so m-maybe ya wanna put me down an’ we can talk abou – Ah!”  
  
There was a disapproving growl, followed by a confusing moment of rapid repositioning before Cid found himself in an entirely new predicament. Vincent had shifted things around so that he held Cid up by a solid grip on the underside of the pilot’s thighs. A single inch further up and Cid’s ass would have been in Vincent’s hands. This might have been of interest to the Cid if something else had not grabbed his attention by the throat. Vincent had pulled Cid’s legs up and apart, settling in between Cid’s thighs with a satisfied growl. Cid could not help but moan when Vincent’s groin pressed up against his own. Cid’s hips made tiny, instinctive movements as he tried vainly to remember how to talk.  
  
“Vince… Vince – oh fuck – we – ah!” Cid threw his head back, stars exploding across his vision as Vincent thrust against the pinned pilot, growling happily and laying sucking bites on Cid’s neck that would later develop into truly spectacular marks.  
  
And Cid gave in, threw in the metaphorical towel and made up his mind to enjoy the situation, sudden and unexpected as it may have been.  
  
Shucking his gloves, Cid tangled his hands in Vincent’s hair and pulled the ex-Turks face up to kiss him for the first time. It was a rough kiss, with teeth that pressed just a bit too hard. It was messy and wet and far too deep to be anything less than pornographic.  
  
It was perfect.  
  
=/=

Vincent was drowning, and what small part of his mind remained capable of rational thought was idly wondering how exactly he had gone from questioning Cid on his strange behaviour to mauling the man against the wall.  
  
He had tried, Hel’s frozen Gates he had tried, to get the truth out into the open and have a frank discussion, but then out of nowhere, bam! Cid had started to smell so very good. Alluring even. Before he had quiet realized what he was doing Vincent had impulsively followed to prompting of one (or more) of his many little voices and gotten closer. Much closer. Vincent had no clue where the idea to lick Cid had come from (Galien Beast), but the man tasted just as good as he smelled. Vincent could not put a name on it, but it was something that bypassed rational thought, flipped all of Vincent’s systems to ‘sex now’. Even the demons agreed in their own way, which normally would have tripped all of Vincent’s alarms, except Cid kept making these sounds. The blonde’s whiskey voice roughened and choked on bitten back moans. Vincent forgot all about being alarmed as he was gripped by the rampant desire to make Cid scream.  
  
Cid’s mouth tasted like tea and the honey he sometimes used to sweeten it. Vincent was not particularly fond of tea, but it was such an oddly appropriate flavour for Cid that the gunman found a whole new appreciation for boiled leaves.  
  
Vincent had never really appreciated Cid’s lackadaisical fashion sense before beyond acknowledging its functionality, but just like the taste of tea, he had just discovered a whole new affection for Cid’s clothes. The oversized bombers jacket and loose t-shirt slid off with a minimum of fuss. The fastening of Cid’s jeans was but a small obstacle as Vincent tried to undo the button as taste the newly bared skin of Cid’s chest at the same time. When Vincent decided to forgo untying the other mans boots and instead simply snapped the laces, Cid had just enough presence of mind left to protest the abuse of his footwear.  
  
“Hey! Easy on the duds – mmph!” Vincent plundered Cid’s conveniently open mouth and bit the blonde’s bottom lip. Leaving Cid blinking in hazy bemusement as Vincent finished stripping the blonde with his usual single-minded efficiency. It was actually rather flattering, Cid thought, the way Vincent seemed to want Cid enough that he was not taking ‘no’ for an answer. This was kind of strange now that Cid thought about it. Vincent had always seemed like the kind of guy who asked first, or at least spent a decent amount of time dancing around the subject, instead of skipping straight to the getting naked part. Which made this sudden out-of-the-blue molestation king of worrying.  
  
“Ah!” Cid moaned as Vincent dragged his tongue over the nipple he had bitten to reclaim the pilots wandering attention. The red-eyed gunman was pleased by the way clever fingers twined in his hair and the way strong legs flexed where they were wrapped tight around his hips. Cid had very nice legs, Vincent mused, his usual thoughts and concerns lost in a haze of lust that obscured pretty much everything beyond the blonde man in his arms and the many ways Vincent could make him gasp and moan and scream. Cid had a nice voice too, Vincent noted, especially when he was panting in desire and calling Vincent’s name. Cid had a very nice everything really.  
  
=/=  
  
In the first days after his release from the coffin that had been his decades long prison, Vincent had felt like he ill-fit his own body. Before the experiments, he had been reasonably tall, and fit as benefited a Turk of his reputation, and he had known his own attractiveness, having been appraised of it by his trainers over the years. Afterwards though, he had been wasted, pared down by his captivity to skin and bone and sinew, getting by on supernatural strength. The demons had stretched his bones over the long years, helped by Hojo in the beginning, enlarging his frame to make the transformations of his Limit Breaks simpler. While previously he had stood a little over six feet, he now neared seven. The years since the Meteor quest had brought eventual adjustment to his new size and being able to eat had filled out his frame with new muscle, so that at least he no longer felt like a walking skeleton. Yet sometimes he still felt awkward, overlarge and cumbersome next to other people who were so comfortable in their own skins. Only Cloud came close to understanding, having spent five years growing from youth to man inside a mako tube. But with Cid Vincent always felt comfortable, able to put aside his discomfort as the sheer energy and emotion the pilot put into simply existing made it difficult to dwell on such things.  
  
Now though Cid felt so small in Vincent’s hold, steamy kisses having stolen the bluster that distracted from the more than a foots height difference between the two of them. But Cid really did have a lovely body; trained and fit for all that he was not the tallest man to walk the planet. The sort of balanced physique achieved by track and field athletes evident in the coiled strength in the limbs flexing around him. Vincent thoroughly explored Cid’s body with mouth and hand, keeping his claw under Cid’s thigh for support, delighting in the shivers and sounds his ministrations produced.  
  
Tracing the elegant arch of Cid’s collarbone with his teeth, nuzzling the surprisingly delicate hollows of the pilot’s throat. Drinking in each shuddering moan from the blondes welcoming mouth. Sliding his palm over a defined pectoral and appreciating the hitching gasp as the gun calluses on his fingers caught on a nipple. Then he had to pinch, roll the tightly drawn flesh between his fingers and lower his mouth to the other, set his teeth against the pebbled bud before he sucked. Felt Cid jump and twist in his grip, felt the pilot’s arms and legs tighten in order to pull their two bodies closer together. Vincent growled in approval and Cid groaned, squirmed against him, bare skin sliding damply against the gunman’s worn leathers.  
  
Vincent was drowning in sensations, seeing each muscle flex and shift, the dark swollen wetness of Cid’s mouth – Vincent bit Cid’s lower lip – the lazy heat of blue eyes that focused on him, on Vincent, and showed no aversion to being with Vincent. Felt the energy in the lithe body he held against him, ready to snap or break or fly with the next touch, or the next, the hardness brushing his stomach with each grind of Cid’s hips. Vincent rubbed a finger along the crease of Cid’s thigh and smirked at the way the unconscious rhythm of Cid’s hips faltered, jumped, the other man ready to shake apart in his arms at the way each touch was always too soft or short or just not enough to give him satisfaction. The sound of Cid’s voice, his pleasure vocalized in each gasping breath and broken curse, the drag of skin against leather filled his ears. The taste of steel and tea on his tongue, tastes stolen directly from Cid’s mouth. And the scent, the aroma that had first baffled him then enticed him then hauled him in closer was all around them, strong and thick and clinging, hanging around their entwined bodies like a cloud of invisible desire. It blotted out his reason, made Vincent want to bite and pin and claim, made him want to cover Cid in his scent, his mark, so that no one else would be tempted to take away that which was now Vincent’s.  
  
Which was ridiculous really, it was not like someone was going to wander by and snatch Cid up. For one thing the pilot could take care of himself, and would raise an unholy fuss if someone tried to take him against his will. But for some reason it all made perfect sense in Vincent’s currently addled mental state.  
  
So Vincent growled again and latched onto Cid’s neck, adding yet another love bite to a rapidly growing collection. Cid cursed appreciation and Vincent smoothed his hand down Cid’s flank, enjoying the way the pilot pressed into the touch.  
  
=/=  
  
Cid blinked up at the ceiling of his cabin and tried to formulate a coherent thought. It was hard – Shiva’s ice! Bad word choice – but frustration was its own kind of motivation. Vincent was holding Cid up with one fucking hand, a casual display of strength that would have left Cid weak in the knees if his feet were not already a significant distance from the floor. Cid had an ironic weakness for strength – of any kind – and Vincent was strong in so many ways, had survived things that Cid did not even like to think about – Gods be damned but the man turned Cid on!  
  
Although Cid was not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, he had taken only a few lovers, the kind of things that got his attention not things that could safely be found in one-night stands. (A bad experience in his late teens had taught him that much, and very well at that.)  
  
Cid moaned, dragging Vincent’s mouth off his neck by the grip he had on the other mans hair, kissing him again. Thinking bemused thoughts about the wonders of oral fixations when he opened his mouth to allow Vincent’s tongue to plunder him. Cid wondered hazily if Vincent was as skilled with the rest of his body as he was with his mouth, and as Vincent surged against him, crushing Cid up against the wall, wondering when they were going to move on to something a little more in depth than groping and kisses.  
  
One of Vincent’s many buckles pinched the skin of Cid’s inner thigh and he pulled his head back, blinking at Vincent to clear his vision of the fireworks going off behind his eyes. Cid shook his head, realizing for the first time that he was completely bare-assed naked while Vincent still had all his clothes on.  
  
“Whoa, Vince, hold up a sec' will ya?” An un-amused growl let Cid know What Vincent thought about stopping and alarmed Cid really looked at Vincent. The gunman’s eyes were glowing bright enough to qualify as shining, casting odd shadows on his face.  
  
“No.” Vincent snarled, eyes narrowing and – were those fangs? Cid swallowed, smoothing his hands through Vincent’s hair, aware that something wild, something feral had a hold of them both.  
  
“Ease up hotshot, I’m not sayin’ stop. But yer fuckin’ buckles pinch and there’s a decent enough bed ‘bout two steps thataway. What say we getcher clothes off and make use of the mattress, yeah?” Vincent relaxed a bit as Cid talked, apparently thinking the proposition over. Cid grinned and decided to suit actions to words as he got to work on Vincent’s clothes. The bandanna was a simple matter of pulling it free and dropping it to the floor. Vincent’s cloak was unbuckled and fluttering to the ground by the time he realized the inherent sense in Cid’s plan.  
  
Moments later Cid found his self settled on the bed as he was treated to the planet’s fastest strip show. Vincent was a walking Highwind wet dream, a pretty face topping seven feet of corded, mako-enhanced muscle, with unexpectedly broad shoulders and a wedge shaped torso that flowed into long, strong limbs. The terrible scars were thick and numerous, but just added a layer of immediacy to the strength in the body settling over Cid’s with a low hiss of pleasure.  
  
Cid reached up and pushed back the long, thick locks of Vincent’s hair, meeting the blazing red eyes and grinning fearlessly, his own blue gaze warm and inviting.  
  
“Fancy meetin’ you here.” Cid drawled, his low voice a counterpoint to the slide on skin on skin as he wound his legs around Vincent’s hips again.  
  
“Cid.” Vincent’s voice was a growling purr of pleasure as bare length met bare length for the first time. Cid groaned as he pulled Vincent into a kiss fraught with barely restrained desperation. Cid released his hold on Vincent’s hair to run his hands over scar-seamed skin that had figured largely in his dreams for the last week and more. Clever, nimble hands closed on Cid’s real goal and Vincent broke the kiss with a surprised hiss, eyes lidded and pleased.  
  
Big, Cid thought, squirming against the larger body rubbing against his, Vincent was just… damned impressive any-which way you looked at him. Big, yeah, bigger than he was used to but…  
  
Cid let his gaze wander down Vincent’s large, lanky body as the gunman pushed himself up with his arms, fingers dug into the sheets by Cid’s shoulders, crimson eyes mostly closed in what looked like concentration. Cid watched his own hands map out the tight, ruddy skin of Vincent’s erection. Licking his lips, Cid wrapped one hand around the root and slid his hand up the shaft to the head. Eyes narrowing in consideration, Cid turned the issue over in his mind a few more times before he made his decision.  
  
Vincent was big, yes, but not impossible, and definitely worth the effort.  
  
Mind made up, Cid figured it was time to take things to the next level. After one more lingering stroke Cid released his hold and twisted around to get at his side table drawer – and squeaked in an embarrassingly unmanly way as Vincent yanked him back.  
  
“Hey!” More than a bit shocked by the abrupt treatment Cid sputtered as Vincent pinned him back in place with a barely coherent growled warning.  
  
“Stay put.” Cid shivered at the rough command, at once aroused and concerned. His brain had finished playing connect-the-dots and Cid realized that Vincent was not really all there at the moment and what little control the gunman had over himself seemed tenuous at best. Vincent was breathing hard, eyes glazed, and that growl had not left his voice even during his more verbal moments since their little grind session had started. Cid felt like an idiot for not noticing sooner, but to be fair he had not exactly been in a situation conductive to clear thinking.  
  
Now Cid had a few choices; he could calm Vincent down, get their clothes back on, find out what the fuck was going on… but he really did not want to think about how Vincent would react to stopping. The gunman would probably go angst somewhere and then Cid would never get laid. So, out of consideration for sparing them both a bad case of blue-balls, Cid decided to go with option B. Namely, get Vincent to do all of the work in order to appease his apparently raging Alpha Male impulses and get both of them off in a satisfactory manner. Cid knew it was stupid and somewhat akin to taking advantage of someone who was inebriated out of their mind, but well… Vincent was not drugged, was not drunk (again, as far as Cid knew) and was acting entirely under the direction of his own fucked up free will. And Cid wanted him. Wanted Vincent really fucking badly. So he would take him any way he could have him at this point. With a groan that was part self-loathing and part resignation, Cid very firmly turned his too-clever-for-its-own-good brain off and focused on the matter at hand.  
  
“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Vince.” Cid looked up at Vincent and realized that Vincent was aware of what was happening, but was just so hyper-focused on Cid that nothing else was registering. Not a single doubt or regret was able to get through Vincent’s concentration. Cid smiled a bit, something lusty and coy was curling his lips as he relaxed deliberately into Vincent’s grip.  
  
“If you look in the drawer there you’ll find somethin’ we can use right about now.” Cid traced the lines of Vincent’s abdomen with his fingers, grinning at the way the muscles twitched in reaction, “You should be able to reach from here.”  
  
Vincent stared at Cid for a long moment before reaching out. A moment of rummaging later and Vincent pulled out an economy-sized tube of lubricating gel. Vincent studied it for a moment.  
  
“It’s been opened.” Cid twitched, flushing ever so slightly as Vincent turned a burning look on him.  
  
“Er…” Cid shrugged helplessly as tension coiled in the larger body pinning him to the bed.  
  
“And used.” Vincent not quite snarled, “Who?”  
  
That was definitely a snarl right there. Cid blinked, Vincent’s expression was jealous. Possessive. It screamed from every inch of the gunman. Embarrassment died a messy death as Cid tried to find the words that would cut off Vincent’s sudden rage.  
  
“Who were you with?” Vincent’s voice was inhuman (familiar)(Chaos), and his eyes promised pain and screaming. Not things conductive to the outcome Cid was angling for. Fucking hell but he was getting tired of all the fucking mood swings and delays. Was getting screwed into the mattress really too much to ask for? Did he have to fucking well play amateur shrink too?  
  
“With you!” And there went Cid’s mouth, running without his permission again. Stupid thing.  
  
“… What?” Vincent’s angry face switched abruptly to one of confusion as he stared down at Cid, although the psychotic edge remained around and in his eyes. At least he was verbal now.  
  
“I opened it last week after I, erm, walked in on ya.” And hello utter mortification, welcome back. You and Captain Highwind are going to get along just fine. Cid grinned ruefully as a pink flush stained his face and ears, “I used it a couple a times. A man’s got needs, ya know?”  
  
“You pleasured yourself… while thinking of me, us, like this?” Vincent’s voice had shifted into a velvet purr and Cid swallowed back a whimper in reaction.  
  
“Fuck, yeah. I did.” Screw it. He wanted to get laid sometime this week, “Thought about ya with me in this bed, about yer hands, and yer mouth bein’ on me. Thought about how it’d feel ta kiss ya, touch ya. How ya’d feel inside a me – mmn!”  
  
The lube was dropped beside Cid’s head, but having Vincent’s tongue in his mouth had most of his attention. Cid pulled back and nipped along Vincent’s jaw line to his ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth only to release it after a gentle tug.  
  
“Ya want me, Vince? Wanna fuck me?” Cid’s breath washed hotly over Vincent’s ear, making the gunman shake, a fine tremor running through him at the words coming from Cid’s mouth, “Ya can, y’know. Shove that huge cock a yours inta me an’ fuck me hard, knees up ‘round my ears.”  
  
Vincent ducked his head to Cid’s chest, biting and sucking, loving the way the blonde’s breath hitched even as the words kept coming. Dirty, lewd, wanton goading descriptions of acts and fantasies that made Vincent’s insistent desire burn brighter.  
  
“Had m’fingers up there this mornin’ in the shower, makin’ sure I was nice an’ clean. Was plannin’ on pullin’ out a toy ‘r two t’night, hopin’ ta get th’ itch t’ die down. Fingers can’t get deep enough – nngh! Vincent!” Cid bucked up into Vincent’s hand, and what little coherent thought that had been regained vanished.  
  
Vincent reared up on his knees and snatched up the lube. Holding the cap between his teeth, Vincent had the tube opened with a few sharp twists. Absently Vincent spat the cap into the still open drawer of the side table so they could find it later. Vincent’s mind kept bombarding him with images to match Cid’s words. The thought of the pilot – brash, strong, independent Captain Highwind – touching himself that way, pretending it was Vincent…  
  
The gunman growled and in a quick movement had a mound of gel in the palm of his flesh hand. He tossed the tube away to the side, uncaring of wither it landed on the table or not. Lowering his head Vincent nuzzled the jut of Cid’s hipbone. Cid whined, lifting his pelvis from the bed, and Vincent took advantage of Cid’s movement to get the pilots legs slung over his shoulders. After a small red mark had been made on Cid’s hip Vincent finally had pity on the writhing, moaning pilot and nosed the pale blonde curls at the base of Cid’s erection. In an impressive feat of dexterity Vincent managed to get his fingers evenly coated in the slick gel. Vincent could feel Cid’s thighs trembling; the pilot’s legs were spread wide open by Vincent’s shoulders, baring him to the gunman.  
  
“Fuck, yes!” Cud moaned as Vincent’s slick fingers finally – finally! – went where he wanted them, spreading wetness on his skin as they trailed over and around his opening, “Gods dammit, c’mon Vince! Stop teasing! Just – nngh!”  
  
Cid let his head fall back, eyes shut as he focused on the feeling of being breached. Vincent had great hands, wonderful big hands with long elegant fingers. Nice fingers, touching him just right. Vincent smirked against Cid’s skin as he slowly pressed on finger deep into Cid’s body, enjoying the shameless sounds of encouragement and appreciation Cid was making. Loving the heat, the way muscles clenched and fluttered and opened to him, the way Cid shook as he fought to spread his legs wider.  
  
“You like this.” Vincent marvelled, the realization feeding warmth in his chest.  
  
“Haah… Mm, ya think?” Cid grinned, his heel pressing insistently against Vincent’s shoulder blade, urging the other man on, “Yer good with yer hands, Vince. S’feels nice.”  
  
Cid groaned when Vincent slid in a second Finger, feeling the flesh resist before giving way. Cid shuddered, watching Vincent’s eyes blaze as he focused on Cid, on what he was doing to Cid, who still could not quite believe that this was really happening. Cid expected to wake up any time now, so he was determined to get the most out of this experience while he could.  
  
A third finger was pushed inside, spreading him wider than he ever managed on his own. Cid relaxed into the pressure, appreciating the slight burn of stretching muscles. Vincent was a damn sight bigger than Cid’s previous partners (which considering that he had been married for the last year, saving the world two years before that, and rabidly anti-social for at least five years before that… yeah, it had been a damned long time since Cid had taken much more than his own fingers or a vibrator.) And Cid’s previous romp partners had been coworkers, and had been relatively close to the Captain’s own size and build. So Cid really was very thankful that Vincent was taking his time and being thorough in preparing Cid for the final act. Especially considering how wild the gunman had been when this little game of tumble-the-pilot had started. But if Vincent did not hurry the fuck up and get on with it Cid’s balls were going to explode and there would be screaming and tears and then no one was going to get laid tonight.  
  
And that would be a damn shame.  
  
Because Cid had put up with far too much shit this week to let Vincent get off that easy.  
  
Cid grinned wryly, amused by his thought processes, but his inner monologue had a point. Vincent’s fingers were pressing in just the right way to make colours flash in front of his eyes and make his breathing go funny.  
  
“Vince…” Cid moaned, heels digging into Vincent’s back as he fought for control, “I think… I’m gonna… oh, fuck.”  
  
“Go ahead.” Vincent purred, turning his head to tongue Cid’s inner thigh, “Let it go.”  
  
“But…” Cid whimpered shamelessly at a particularly insistent twist and press of Vincent’s fingers.  
  
“You’re too tense, Cid.” Vincent spoke in admonishment and promise, “Stop trying to hold back. Don’t worry, I’m not going to let you get away with just once.”  
  
“Oh fuck.” Cid keened as his control snapped and he spilled in hot pulses over his own stomach. Extremities tingling as his body went limp and boneless, Cid breathed, “Fuck.”  
  
Vincent let out a pleased noise as it suddenly became much easier to move his fingers within Cid’s body.  
  
Cid was still floating around in his own personal happy place when Vincent’s (wonderful, perfect) fingers pulled out of his body. Frowning a bit in disappointment Cid opened his eyes (did not remember closing them) and looked at Vincent questioningly.  
  
Vincent looked back at Cid and very deliberately lifted the pilot’s hips, tilting Cid’s body to an angle he was satisfied with. Cid felt a solid touch at his entrance, bigger, hotter, and more insistent than Vincent’s fingers.  
  
“Yes.” Cid breathed, trying to pull Vincent in closer with legs that still felt like limp noodles.  
  
Vincent purred, the last miniscule traces of lingering doubts fading as the tight heat of Cid surrounded his aching erection. The relaxed, stretched flesh opened easily around his turgid length, seeming to pull him deeper, but that was just Cid urging him on with legs that were quickly regaining the strength sapped by his orgasm.  
  
Watching Cid’s face, Vincent searched intently for any sign of discomfort as he slowly eased his way in. Cid just braced his hands against the headboard, grinned winningly at Vincent, and shoved himself down onto Vincent’s erection. White noise filled Vincent’s head, blocking out everything but for Cid’s blissful, supremely self-satisfied moan.  
  
Dazed by the sudden rush of pleasure, Vincent could only growl and make embarrassingly happy noises as Cid slid his legs off Vincent’s shoulders and hooked his knees around Vincent’s elbows. Getting a solid grip on Vincent’s shoulders Cid gave a practical demonstration of his flexibility and hauled his self up. Vincent reflexively slid his hands down to Cid’s waist, bracing him and hold the pilot steady.  
  
Cid wrapped his arms around Vincent’s neck and grinned in challenge. “Awright Vince, show me what’cha got.”  
  
Vincent blinked and raised his eyebrows, but received only another blinding grin in return. His brow furrowed and Vincent released a low, warning growl. “Cid, I don’t want to harm you.”  
  
“Y’won’t, do c’mon.” Cid scoffed, doing something that was part grind, part flexing writhe – whatever it was, it made Vincent’s eyes cross and a large portion of his good intentions were devoured rather messily by his raging libido – Cid grinned in victory when Vincent started the continuous growl that signalled to him that Vincent’s hormones had staged a coup and supplanted the gunman’s rational thought as the controlling force behind his actions. “Just fuck me already.”  
  
Vincent’s eyes flashed at Cid’s frustrated demand, and he drew in a sharp breath, holding it as he took a moment to savour the tight intimate clasp of Cid’s body.  
  
Then Vincent released the breath he was holding, firmed his grip on Cid’s waist, and finally (finally!) began to move. Both men moaned, this moment having been torturously long in coming. Vincent lifted Cid up, the position they were in giving him almost complete control over the pilot’s movements. The thought was both deeply exciting and vaguely daunting.  
  
Cid’s eyes were wide open, pupils dilated as he panted into wet, open-mouthed kisses that neither man seemed able to break. Everything about Cid at that moment was open, welcoming, pulling Vincent in, and urging him deeper. The air around them was saturated with the familiar scent of lust; it clung to their skin, was caught in their hair, sank into the sheets.  
  
Gritting his teeth against the wail that threatened to escape – so good, it filled him to nearly bursting, hard and hot and huge, the best thing he had ever felt – and Cid did his best to grind down into Vincent’s thrusts, guiding the gunman with hands and thighs to exactly the right angle, excited even more by the way Vincent lifted and moved and adjusted him without apparent effort. Vincent is rewarded for his diligent heed of Cid’s directions by the feeling of Cid beginning to harden again between them, the tip Cid’s renewing erection sliding along the lines of his stomach.  
  
Cid whimpered into Vincent’s mouth with each thrust of the other man’s hips, letting the ex-Turk swallow the pitiable sounds that Cid would never make under any other circumstances but the current one. The blonde squirmed in Vincent’s steady grip, the thick pressure moving within him making all his nerve endings stand up and do a happy little dance.  
  
Vincent had lost himself, lost to the tight, hot clench of a willing body. Lost to the sweet gasps and moans that he pulled from between soft, chapped lips and swallowed down, greedy, wanting it all. Vincent was lost to the scent and the sound and the feel and the sight. Vincent moved faster, harder, let himself go just a little bit more (careful, so careful, always testing how far he could go until something broke.) The increased friction fanned the burn in his loins, flames licking up his spine, building, insistent.  
  
Cid keened, every muscle clenching in rhythm to Vincent’s thrusts. The pleasure built on itself, coiling tighter as they strove for completion together. Cid’s eyes flickered over Vincent’s face, and a little voice urged him on. Cid grinned and shoved himself down hard into the next few thrusts, tightening around Vincent’s erection as much as he could without pain. The volume of Vincent’s growls rose sharply and Cid clamped down tight, fingers digging into the skin over Vincent’s shoulder blades and heels pressing into spine as his teeth found the tendon on one side of Vincent’s neck and bit down hard.  
  
Vincent was silent through his climax as his hips pounded – once, twice – in helpless reflex, pumping deep into Cid’s welcoming body as he reached release. Vincent slowly collapsed forward, deep shuddering breaths shaking his chest.  
  
Cid made a wordless, deeply unhappy sound when Vincent caught himself on his arms, halting his slow fall and slipping from the pilots’ body when Cid continued to slide down the rest of the distance to the bed.  
  
“You…” Vincent managed to growl out, even gasping for breath as he was. Cid was impressed. Really. Vincent growled again when Cid chuckled. “You little bastard. How would you like it if I drove you out of your mind with lust?”  
  
“Ah.” Cid’s pulse jumped but he managed a sly grin even as he slid one hand down to stroke his erection. “Sounds like fun time Vince, but ya don’t have ta sulk, there’s no shame in not being able to keep up with the Captain.”  
  
Vincent’s eyes flared at the taunt and Cid yelped as he was flipped over onto his knees, both hands coming up to save him from a face plant into the pillows after the sudden movement.  
  
“Vince, wha – nnghn!” Any protests Cid might have made were dissolved in the fierce cry of pleasure that was pulled from him when Vincent gripped Cid’s hips and shoved back inside of the pilot. Ancient’s bless mako exposure side effects and accelerated recovery periods.  
  
“Let us see…” Vincent breathed into Cid’s ear as he pulled Cid’s hips up to a better angle. “Let’s just see who cannot keep up with whom.”  
  
“Oh fuck.” Cid said feelingly. Who would have thought that sex made Vincent chatty?  
  
“Precisely.” Vincent purred and started moving in earnest.  
  
The pale gunman dragged his mouth over the back of Cid’s neck and shoulders, tasting the other man’s skin and putting both lips and teeth to good use. Cid moaned and clenched his hands in the blankets as Vincent’s flesh hand gripped and pulled at his erection, the claw arm wrapped around Cid’s waist to hold the blonde steady. Cid was holding both their weights, gravity aiding Vincent’s attempts to screw Cid blind. Cid could feel his orgasm approaching and grit his teeth, shoving back into Vincent’s thrusts.  
  
“No!” Cid howled, unable to stop a demanding whine from escaping his lips when Vincent stopped moving, draped across the pilot's back and holding perfectly still. Cid could feel Vincent’s smirk against his shoulder blade and cursed. “You bastard!”  
  
Vincent chuckled and kissed the back of Cid’s neck, still unmoving, and oh, if that was the way they were going to play this one out…  
  
Cid twisted, shoved, and in a lucky combination of leverage, surprise, and momentum managed to roll Vincent onto his back. Grinning down at the surprised expression on Vincent’s face (and it was about damned time the broody bastard lost his cool) Cid swung a leg over Vincent’s hips and lowered back down on to Vincent’s erection. Head thrown back, Cid let out a pleased cry as his sweet spot was hit. With a happy purr Cid began to lift and lower himself only a few inches at a time to pet that special spot. Vincent grabbed Cid’s hips, hissing between his teeth as his back arched. Cid chortled as Vincent surged upwards, dumping Cid onto his back and slinging Cid’s leg over his gauntleted shoulder. They strove against each other. Trying to out last one another, feeling the pressure building to the final height.  
  
Cid knew he was not going to last much longer, so he grabbed Vincent by the back of the neck and hauled him down into an open mouthed kiss. The smooth pace of Vincent’s thrusts stuttered, then grew frantic as Cid bore down, using his inner muscles to grip tightly around the thick length moving inside his body. The end came suddenly, a solid strike to his prostate and Cid threw his head back and shouted; a wailing cry of completion escaping parted lips as he shuddered through his orgasm. Vincent snarled, the noise he made in his own completion muffled in the curve of Cid’s neck, the tight, rhythmic clenching of Cid’s body milking him as he spent himself deep within the pilot.  
  
They remained locked together for a breathless moment, then one of them released a shuddering breath and time resumed its course. With a sigh Vincent slowly withdrew. Cid felt a small pang of loss as Vincent slipped from his body, but with his ardour cooled he was slowly becoming aware of the sticky mess of semen and lube covering his lower abdomen and inner thighs. Exhaustion was creeping up on him and an ache was starting up in his lower back, a pleasant burn and reminder of their activities. Cid was a mess, the kind of dishevelled that indicated having had a really fucking good time, but even more important than cleaning up was one particular thing.  
  
“Mmhey, Vince?” Cid smirked when Vincent jolted beside him; the gunman had probably been lost in his own after-the-fact thoughts.  
  
“Yes?” If Cid had been anyone else he might just have actually believed that Vincent was as calm as he looked. Good thing Cid knew better.  
  
“Y’wanna get me a towel’r somethin’? I’m a mess.” Cid grinned as Vincent stared at him.  
  
“And you cannot get it yourself?” Vincent asked, feeling a bit stupid about it even as he finished the question.  
  
“Well I could, but I don’t wanna.” Cid snorted. “Besides, I’m tired. Been workin’ all day, so go earn yer keep, ya freeloader.”  
  
If Vincent’s eyebrows went any higher they would fly right off his face, so Cid figured he should help the poor guy out. Cid had seen, heard of and read about how most people reacted after sex (freak out or ignore it) how many people became shy or ashamed or afraid. Cid took a somewhat different approach. Blunt honesty. It worked out well for him, and seeing as how Vincent was the kind of guy to take the worst impression out of any given situation if you gave him enough time to brood about it, Cid figured his usual tactic would work just fine.  
  
“Highwind – Cid, I…” Vincent was struggling, if was obvious.  
  
“Shut up.” Cid said calmly, speaking right over whatever Vincent was going to say. “We just had two back-to-back sessions of fan-fucking-tastic sex, and I don’t want you brooding about it. So if you’re gonna say anything other than ‘let me get you a towel’ or ‘let’s do it again sometime’ I don’t wanna hear it.”  
  
Vincent’s mouth snapped closed, his jaw tightening as he glared at Cid in affront. Cid just grinned at him, unrepentant.  
  
“Plus I think the scars are damn sexy. You’ll have to let me lick ‘em sometime, yeah?” Cid snickered as Vincent’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped, wounded dignity forgotten. Hell, he did not know why the other man looked so surprised; surely Cid’s shamelessness during ‘the morning after’ conversations was legendary by now. (Or maybe his gossip-mongering crew could keep a secret better than he had believed.) Cid yawned, cutting off his good-natured laughter at Vincent’s expense.  
  
“Ah, fuck it.” Cid muttered, tired of waiting for Vincent to speak up, and crawled over Vincent’s legs.  
  
“What are you doing?” Oh look, Vincent appeared to be verbal again. How nice.  
  
“I’m gonna take a shower.” Cid declared, clambering off the side of the bed as he stretched and yawned again, cracking his back. He crossed the room, throwing an invitation over his shoulder as he went; “You can join me if you like.”  
  
Cid left the bathroom door open just in case Vincent had not gotten the hint.  
  
A few minutes and a quick all-over scrub later a disappointed Cid exited the bathroom, expecting to find Vincent long gone from the room and maybe even the airship entirely. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to find that Vincent had stuck around. His bed had been stripped and remade, the soiled linens dumped in the hamper and the scattered articles of clothing had been picked up.  
  
Vincent stood up from where he had been seated on the edge of the bed, unconcernedly naked, and for a long moment they just stared at each other. What did you say in this sort of situation? What were you supposed to think when you crossed that line which separated friends and lovers?  
  
“Shower’s free.” Cid said as he resumed towelling his hair, breaking eye contact as he stepped out of the way, clearing the door to the bathroom.  
  
Vincent hesitated. Was that it?  
  
“I don’t know if I’ve got anythin’ that’ll fit ya fer sleepin’, but I’ll take a look. That okay with ya?” Cid had wandered over to his dresser and was rooting through the drawers as he spoke.  
  
Apparently so, and with Cid being so calm and rational, Vincent would feel very foolish indeed if he gave into the urge to angst now. Vincent inclined his head in acquiescence, stepping away from the bed.  
  
“Thank you, Cid. That will be fine.” Vincent said quietly before he disappeared into the bathroom.  
  
Cid pulled on a pair of boxers and managed to find a pair of sweatpants that looked as if they would fit Vincent. The sweats were several sizes too large for Cid. The blonde man frowned at the pants in his hands; they looked pretty new. He certainly did not remember buying them, so where had they come from?  
  
Abruptly Cid realized that he was trying to distract himself (and succeeding dammit!) from his disappointment and stopped wondering about the mystery of the pants. You did not check the length of a gift chocobo’s talons after all. At least they were black.  
  
Cid turned around, wondering if he should leave the sweats inside or outside of the bathroom.  
  
He stopped. Blinked. Grinned.  
  
Vincent had left the bathroom door open.

=/=  
  
_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in protest against the common characterization of Vincent Valentine as a delicate, trembling, virgin flower. Yes, he has loads of angst-inducing trauma, but FOR FUCK’S SAKES, he was a Turk! A political bodyguard and professional assassin! He killed (and still kills) people/things FOR A LIVING. Just because he is quiet does NOT mean that he is shy, or scared, or any shit like that. Vincent is the strong, silent type. So there. Long hair and a pretty face does NOT a weak-kneed maiden make, people. Get with the program.
> 
> Love and Kisses,
> 
> -Niko’s Inner Cid.


End file.
